


Pretty, Pretty Boy

by roaldcore



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Pining, Post-Time Skip, also bokuto is a lil ooc, just in like setting, sorry i made atsumu kinda slimy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roaldcore/pseuds/roaldcore
Summary: Kenma only likes pretty boys.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei (mentioned)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 203





	Pretty, Pretty Boy

**Author's Note:**

> nyello :)) this weirdly took me a while to write but i rly like bokuken hehe

Kenma was plenty cute in high school. That much, Bokuto thinks, is undeniable.  
  
Bokuto remembers that it was snowing the day that Kenma appeared at the gym near the end of practice for the Black Jackals. His hair was well past his shoulders now and he was engulfed in layers of warm clothing. If Bokuto knew anything about Kenma, he knew that the man was still cold even with his large hoodie, a jacket, and a scarf. Kenma was here to see Shouyou and the redhead was clambering over to greet him; calling out to him for a hug despite being drenched in sweat. Kenma refused, holding him at arm’s length, but pulling his scarf down to send Shouyou a small smile that Bokuto knows contains all his affections. He’s beautiful.  
  
It’s not like Bokuto forgot Kenma existed or anything. He knew that Kenma was off doing quite a few things with gaming, youtube, and even owning his own company from what he was told by Kuroo and Shouyou. So it’s not at all that he forgot. But he hadn’t seen Kenma in the flesh in quite some time, so when the man is in front of him for the first time in years, something small flares up in Bokuto. He can’t quite put a name to it, but it vaguely reminds him of the feeling he’d get in his chest when he’d see Kenma in high school and his heart would beat a little bit faster, and his cheeks would pink.  
  
He’d crushed on Kenma back then. It wasn’t all-consuming or passionate or anything of the sort. Instead, it was a comfortable sort of affection. He didn’t see Kenma all that often. But during training camps and practice games, Bokuto smiled brighter, and he was filled with a sense of ease that he didn’t get anywhere else. However, they didn’t go to the same school, and he didn’t want to ruin the quiet friendship he had with the boy, so he kept it to himself and he was mostly content to do so. And that was that. Just a little high school crush— one of many.  
  
  
Kenma continues to come to practice every week or so. He picks Shouyou up and they head on their merry way. Bokuto has a passing thought that maybe they’re going out, but when Hinata answers a phone call at the beginning of the next practice and he’s eagerly chatting and the words, “Kei” and “honey” leave his lips with a promise to buy eggs as his neck goes red, Bokuto realizes he’s mistaken.  
  
It’s on his second visit that Kenma notices Bokuto. They make eye contact from across the gym and Kenma shoots him a soft smile and a ginger wave. Before Bokuto can think otherwise, he’s trotting over to him.  
  
“Hey, long time no see,” Kenma smiles again. Bokuto realizes that it must be easier for him to do so now— it’s still a small smile but there nonetheless.  
  
“Yeah,” he breathes, “Nice to see you.”  
  
When Kenma tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear, Bokuto can’t breathe for a second.  
  
  
On his fifth visit, Kenma calls Bokuto over himself while Shouyou talks to the coach.  
  
“Shouyou and I are gonna grab dinner, do you want to tag along?” Kenma asks once Bokuto is close enough. His tone is light but his eyes are analytical as always.  
  
“That sounds great!” he grins, “As long as you’re okay with it.”  
  
“I wouldn’t ask you to come if I wasn’t,” Kenma replies. Blunt as always.  
  
The restaurant is low-key, enough so that they’re casual clothes fit in just fine. They order and at first, Bokuto doesn’t know what to do with himself but Shouyou proves to be a great buffer. The redhead tells Kenma all about how amazing Bokuto’s spikes are and how strong he is and how Bokuto teaches him all these new things. In truth, Bokuto hasn’t had to teach Hinata much of anything since he joined the team— his two years abroad had done him plenty good, and anything that Bokuto ever had to suggest was picked up easily after a couple of tries from the younger man. Bokuto lets Hinata talk him up anyway because Kenma is listening intently and nodding along and since he’s focused on that, Bokuto can stare at him unabashedly. Kenma’s hair is tied in a low bun today with a few strands at the front hanging loose and Bokuto can finally confirm that there are traces of blonde at the tips of his hair, still remaining from high school. His jaw is a little sharper now, and that bored look is gone from his eyes; they’re still calm, but there’s something like _knowing_ or perhaps mischief that lie in them now, though Bokuto can’t quite tell definitively which it is. Kenma’s shoulders still slouch slightly but the air around him carries a certain confidence and allure that Bokuto knows wasn’t there before.  
  
When their food comes, Shouyou is quick to dig in, and his chatter dies down to only replies between chewing. “So what have you been up to?” Bokuto asks Kenma while Shouyou is all-entranced by his plate. Bokuto knows what his friends have told him, but he wants details from the man himself— and hopefully in that soft voice he has.  
  
Kenma tells him about his company, and about his youtube and his pro-gaming career. Bokuto doesn’t understand half of the jargon, but he’s happy to listen. Kenma didn’t talk nearly as much in high school so Bokuto marvels at the sound of his voice as it goes on for more than one or two word responses. Shouyou cuts in to tell Bokuto that Kenma is being modest and that Kenma is popular and successful enough to have his own fans on youtube and that he even has his own house now. Kenma shushes him but the embarrassed blush on his face is evident.  
  
“We should go over later so Bokuto can see how cool and pretty your house is,” Shouyou suggests, his grin blinding.  
  
“Hey, don’t just invite yourself over, it’s rude!” Bokuto balks and elbows Hinata lightly. He peers over to see Kenma’s reaction, only to see him smiling.  
  
“No, it’s okay, we usually go to my house anyway so I don’t see why not,” Kenma shrugs, stuffing his hands into his sweater pockets and leaning back into his chair.  
  
“You’re sure?” Bokuto asks. Kenma gives him a pointed look and Bokuto swallows his unease.  
  
  
Kenma’s house _is_ pretty. It’s traditional and Bokuto loves it. The house smells like wood and citrus and it’s clean, and Kenma has a kotatsu in the living room. Kenma tells them to go sit at the kotatsu while he gets beer and snacks. Shouyou seems to know his way around quite well, so he takes the liberty of turning the tv on and fetching Kenma’s nintendo switch controllers from a cabinet. “I’m gonna set up smash bros!” Shouyou calls over his shoulder so Kenma can hear him from the kitchen.  
  
“Sure!” Kenma calls back. He returns with a few cans of beer and some snacks for later after a few minutes. They’re all still full, but the beer would do great for now.  
  
Bokuto soon realizes that he sucks at video games. Like _really_ sucks. In comparison to Kenma, Shouyou isn’t faring much better either though. It’s plenty fun, especially when Kenma sidles beside Bokuto under the kotatsu to show him how to properly play— showing him how to do special attacks and telling him what characters are good to choose. Kenma smells good. They go through a few beers and before he knows it, Bokuto is having a great time. Kenma is fun.  
  
Bokuto doesn’t realize he passed out until he’s receiving some light jostling on his shoulder and hearing Kenma call out to him, “Bokuto-san, get up." He sits up, feeling groggy and notices that it’s still dark out.  
  
“What time is it?” he asks, still blinking awake. It’s warm and cozy under the kotatsu and he’s slightly hazy from the alcohol. “Where’s Shouyou?”  
  
“It’s a little after midnight, and his boyfriend came to pick him up,” Kenma explains, “It’s late, you can just stay over.”  
  
“Huh— no, it’s okay, I don’t want to inconvenience you,” Bokuto shakes his head and begins to sit up. He’s reluctant to leave because it’s so comfortable at Kenma’s house, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome.  
  
“Stop worrying so much, it’s not like we’re strangers,” Kenma fusses, “You can stay in the guest room and borrow some pajamas that Kuroo left here. Don’t worry, they’re clean.”  
  
It’s clear that Kenma isn’t going to take no for an answer, so Bokuto only nods and lets Kenma lead him to the guest bedroom. He changes into the pajamas— a pair of sweats and a t-shirt— and it’s nice, the t-shirt only a little tight on him. When he settles into the bed, he’s again overtaken by tiredness, only barely catching Kenma peeking in one last time to wish him goodnight.  
  


* * *

Bokuto feels well rested when he wakes up. It’s already light outside and from his window, he can see that it’s snowing lightly. On his bedside table, Bokuto spots a glass of water, with a tyenol beside it— he’s pleased to note that his head doesn’t hurt though— and a face towel with an unopened bamboo toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste sitting on top. There’s a sticky-note on the edge of the table that reads:  
  
‘morning :) bathroom just across the hall’  
  
Bokuto doesn’t need much more prompting than that to get up, so he rolls himself out of bed and fixes it so it’s at least a little presentable, then follows the note’s instruction to head across the hall. Once he’s finished washing up, he pads into the kitchen to find Kenma already there. He’s quiet as he enters, so Kenma doesn’t notice at first and Bokuto finds himself staring once again.  
  
Bokuto’s breath hitches when he fully takes the sight of Kenma in with his hair half-up in a bun, and the rest splaying out messily. He’s completely swallowed up in a brown hoodie that goes past his thighs and a pair of sweats. There’s cute bear slippers on his feet. Kenma’s got a toaster waffle in one hand and a mug of tea in the other as he faces the kitchen window to Bokuto’s right and watches snow fall. His lashes are full and long and his face is stoic as he continues to look outside.  
  
“Morning,” Bokuto murmurs as he finally makes his way into the kitchen. He’s done looking, and now a piece of him wants Kenma’s eyes to fall on him.  
  
“Ah, morning,” Kenma turns to face Bokuto and his gaze is piercing, just as Bokuto hoped for. He smiles and his voice is a bit low from sleep and Bokuto thinks he’s perfect. His heart thumps in his chest and Bokuto lets himself succumb to the feeling. “Do you want breakfast? I’m afraid I only have toaster waffles— hardly the pro athlete’s diet.”  
  
“Toaster waffles sound great,” Bokuto hums, sliding onto a stool at the counter and popping two waffles into the toaster as Kenma sets the kettle on the stove to boil more water. It’s oddly domestic and it makes Bokuto’s heart flip.  
  
They eat in comfortable silence, only interrupting it to have idle small talk. “You’re kind of timid now, Bokuto-san,” Kenma notes while he stirs his tea.  
  
“Koutarou is fine,” Bokuto says, “And that’s only because this is our first time hanging out in a long time, I don’t want to scare you away, Kenma-kun. I’m sure you’ll be annoyed out of your mind soon enough.”  
  
“You’re not annoying. You’re eccentric but not annoying. I like spending time with you, and even though I was too timid to say so in high school, I did back then too,” Kenma says in a casual tone. Although Bokuto greatly appreciates this new, honest Kenma, he worries for the sanctity of his own heart.  
  
They finish eating and cleaning up not soon after. “I should probably head home, huh,” Bokuto sighs, “There’s a train station near here right?”  
  
“I can just drive you,” Kenma offers.  
  
“Ah— no, it’s fine!” Bokuto shakes his head with a grin, “You’ve already done enough for me. Thank’s for having me over and sorry for any inconvenience.”  
  
“I had fun,” Kenma hums, “Come over whenever you want.”  
  
Kenma gives Bokuto his number, then he’s on his way.  
  


* * *

Bokuto knew for sure that he was crushing on Kenma. After he returned home, he played their time together over and over in his head and couldn’t help the warm feeling blooming in his chest at the thought of Kenma’s little smile, or the softness of his voice; how he looked in his pajamas and how good he smelled. Bokuto’s tiny crush from high school was returning tenfold.  
  
  
When Kenma shows up to practice the following day, Bokuto can’t help the grin that easily spreads over his face. His heart stutters in his chest when he sees Kenma beckoning for him to come, instead of seeking out Shouyou first the way he always does.  
  
“Do you need me to get Shouyou for you?” Bokuto asks, a little out of breath after jogging over to Kenma. His hair is in a simple low ponytail today and Bokuto thinks that he’s never looked better.  
  
“No, I’ll talk to him later. I came to see you,” Kenma says before rummaging in his tote bag. The idea that Kenma is here to see _him_ makes his heart summersault. “You left this,” Kenma produces a beige scarf from his bag that Bokuto hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten.  
  
Their fingers brush when Kenma hands it to him and Bokuto knows its a small action, but he can’t help how happy it makes him. “Thank you,” he breathes, “You didn’t have to come all the way out here to give it back though. I hope it wasn’t too out of the way.”  
  
“It’s fine, I had nothing else to do today,” Kenma reassures.  
  
They converse a little while Bokuto puts the scarf into his gym bag before Kenma tells him that he should probably get back to practicing so his teammates don’t get mad, and Bokuto reluctantly slinks away.  
  
Atsumu sidles up to Bokuto once he makes his way back onto the edge of the court. “That guy’s pretty cute! He your boyfriend or something?” Atsumu teases, elbowing Bokuto lightly in the side. Slimy as ever.  
  
“Wha— ” Bokuto balks, his face growing hot, “No! He’s just my friend— Shou’s friend.”  
  
Atsumu nods a little as if in thought. “So,” he muses, “It’s fine if I go after him then?”  
  
Bokuto knows it’s half teasing and half a genuine question and he feels his gut twist. He didn’t want Kenma near any skeevy characters like Atsumu but at the same time, he had no business dictating that. “I don’t own him,” Bokuto mutters, his nose scrunching.  
  
“Wonderful,” Atsumu hums before taking a few strides to Kenma who’s playing on his phone while Shouyou stands nearby, going over some things with a teammate.  
  
Kenma’s head tilts up when Atsumu gets close enough and gets a puzzled look on his face. “Hello,” Kenma says slowly, still confused.  
  
“Hiya,” Atsumu smirks in that signature Atsumu way that gets people swooning in no time. Bokuto feels a nervous bile rise up as he watches the scene before him unfold. “You’re Shouyou’s friend right? He didn’t tell me he knew someone this cute.”  
  
Kenma’s face placates as he realizes what’s going on. His lips thin out and his eyebrows raise amusedly. “Ah, sorry,” Kenma says boredly, “I only like pretty boys.”  
  
Bokuto has to stifle a laugh at the sight of Atsumu’s face crumpling in a mix of confusion and disdain. Shouyou must’ve heard too because he’s soon bounding over and slapping Atsumu on the back, almost sending the taller boy flying. “Struck out did’ja?” Hinata cackles, “That should teach you to stop being so flirty all the time.” Atsumu’s face is red when he flips Shouyou off and stalks away. Bokuto lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in when he sees Kenma’s shoulders deflate in relief.  
  
  
Bokuto thinks about the scene long after practice ends that day. He’s a little confused, namely about Kenma’s words. While it was true that Atsumu was a slimy little flirt on a good day, there was no denying that he was attractive. Atsumu was a pretty boy if there ever was one, so Bokuto wracks his brain at what Kenma possibly means. If not Atsumu then who? The thought makes Bokuto shrink into himself a little because if stunning Atsumu wasn’t deemed even worthy, then surely Bokuto had no chance.  
  
He doesn’t want to dwell on it.  
  


* * *

When Kenma invites Bokuto to meet him for lunch on an unsuspecting Saturday and Shouyou isn’t there, Bokuto is surprised to say the least.  
  
“Are we still waiting on Shouyou?” Bokuto asks as he slides into seat across from Kenma.  
  
“Huh? No, I just invited you today,” Kenma replies while he leafs through the menu, “Hope that’s okay.”  
  
It’s more than okay, Bokuto thinks, feeling his chest warm.  
  
It’s surprisingly easy to hang out with Kenma alone, despite his growing crush on the younger man and their differing personalities. It certainly helps that Kenma is less nervous than he was in high school and Bokuto is slightly more tame. Concerning his crush however, there’s nothing he can do to help that.  
  
Bokuto has plenty to ask Kenma about games he plays and all the aspects of his numerous careers, and Kenma obliges him. In turn, Kenma tells Bokuto that he watches their games online sometimes and offers some insights about plays that Bokuto had never thought of, so he appreciates it, nodding along enthusiastically.  
  


* * *

They hang out alone without Shouyou more and more often as the months go by. More often than not, Kenma is picking _him_ up from practice instead of Shouyou and Bokuto pretends he doesn’t see the knowing grin on the redhead’s face every time he leaves. The two of them do all kinds of things— dinner, playing video games at Kenma’s house (that Bokuto still sucks at), sight seeing, and sometimes just errands. Bokuto likes them all equally and he takes special care to remind himself that as much as he wants them to be, they aren’t dates, so he can’t grab Kenma’s hand even when it swings dangerously close to his own, and he can’t rub the younger man’s cheek with a thumb when it’s tinged red from the cold.  
  
With the passage of time, they grow more comfortable with each other. It’s on a Saturday evening at Kenma’s house that Bokuto realizes that the younger man swears like a sailor. He’s coming out of the bathroom when he sees Kenma stubbing his toe on the dining table leg and a flurry of ‘fuck shit motherfucker’ comes flying out of his mouth. When Bokuto asks if he’s alright, Kenma’s head whips up and his face grows red as if he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. Bokuto only laughs and Kenma relaxes.  
  
As the walls keep coming down, Bokuto also realizes how funny Kenma is. It’s not at all slapstick or in-your-face like Kuroo’s humour is, but it’s witty and subtle— sometimes so much so that it goes over his own head. Once he gets used to it, Bokuto finds that he quite likes it. Kenma is feistier too; he’s grumpy in the mornings when Bokuto stays over, and he’s quick to call Bokuto out on any little slip ups that he finds amusing. He argues with Bokuto about what kind of peanut is better and he glares when Bokuto’s cold feet touch his under the kotatsu. Bokuto loves it all.  
  
In turn, Bokuto slowly but surely stops apologizing for every little thing. He was used to walking on eggshells around the younger in high school but he’s been reminded time and time again that things are different now and Kenma genuinely enjoys his company, so he puts in an effort to stop being so polite. Kenma assures him that he isn’t annoying, so every once in a while Bokuto lets his boisterousness slip and yells a little louder and when Kenma smiles at it instead of cringing away, Bokuto finds himself breathing easier. He argues back about peanut butter with Kenma and purposely touches his frigid toes to Kenma’s legs under the kotatsu just to see his face scrunch up.  
  
Kenma likes having different hairstyles whenever they meet up. Most of the time it’s a simple ponytail or bun, but other times he shows up with a braid, or sometimes two. A couple of times he shows up with his hair half-up with sailor moon buns and one time he comes with his hair down and a bandana tied cutely over it. It endears Bokuto to no end.  
  
  
They’re at Kenma’s house once again when the words slip from his mouth. They’re seated at the kotatsu after lunch digesting, and for once, Kenma’s hair is down. He’s hunched over while playing his DS, so the front strands of his hair cascade over the sides of his face and Bokuto has to fight an urge to brush them away. The TV is on for the both of them, but Kenma’s focused on his game and Bokuto is focused on Kenma.  
  
“Can I braid your hair?” Bokuto blurts.  
  
Kenma’s head whips up and Bokuto sucks in a breath. “Huh?” Kenma stares at him for a moment, “Sure.”  
  
Bokuto is still processing Kenma’s answer— having had fully expected a glare and a huff— when the younger man is crawling into the space between Bokuto’s legs and offering the hair-tie from his wrist. He can’t help the thrumming in his chest when Kenma is _right there_ for him to take in. He’s warm between his thighs and his hair looks soft. Kenma is resuming playing his game as if it’s nothing, so Bokuto takes a breath in— trying to ignore how good Kenma smells— and starts combing through Kenma’s hair with his fingers. It’s silky and untangles easily beneath his ministrations. Bokuto is thankful that he has two older sisters that taught him to braid early on and starts to gather the pieces for a french braid.  
  
Once he gets going, it’s easy to fall into the pattern and the warm feeling in his chest if as comfortable as it is fiery. Kenma sits still for him until the end, only turning to face him once he’s secured the tie at the end of the braid.  
  
“How does it look?” Kenma murmurs, looking over his shoulder.  
  
Without a second thought, Bokuto is pulling a couple of strands out of the braid by Kenma’s face with a few fingers, “Good.”  
  


* * *

Every once in a while Bokuto ponders over that phrase he’d heard some months ago— “ _I only like pretty boys_.” He thinks about it when he’s alone at home at the latest hour and he thinks about it when he catches a stray gaze on Kenma for a second too long when they walk around outside. He has no reason to take personal offence to it because it wasn’t said to him in the first place, and regardless of Kenma’s preferences, he wouldn’t go for Bokuto anyway. It shouldn’t hurt him, but it does, just a little bit.  
  
He thinks about the day that some pretty boy will take Kenma away. It’s not like he owned Kenma in the first place though. But he would miss spending time at Kenma’s house, losing horribly at video games and laughing til he chokes on soda. He would miss seeing Kenma’s cute hairstyles every week and smelling the citrus from his skin. He doesn’t want the time to come when Kenma smiles extra bright for this pretty boy and leans comfortably into a side that isn’t Bokuto’s.  
  
  
Some nights they go to the bar together, and tonight is one of those nights. They had originally come with Kuroo and Shouyou, but the two had since left because they had engagements in the morning. Kenma and Bokuto didn’t, so they were still here; Kenma in a bar stool and Bokuto leaned back against the counter beside him. They’ve been here about an hour or so and are more than a little tipsy— who is he kidding, they’re drunk. Under his drunken haze, Bokuto is enthralled by simple tie in Kenma’s hair and the pink flush of his neck.  
  
He’s so taken by Kenma that he fails to notice a man sidle up on the other side on Kenma, a tipsy flush on an attractive face. The man taps Kenma on the forearm and when Kenma’s head turns to face him, Bokuto’s gaze follows.  
  
“Hi beautiful, can I get you a drink?” the man grinned, leaning in close.  
  
Kenma studies his face for a moment. “Sorry, I only like pretty boys,” he says finally, waving the man away and spinning his stool back to its original position. It’s the same line again but somehow Bokuto is more relieved to hear it now than ever.  
  
“Huh?!” the man prickles, “Just who do you think you are?” He grabs Kenma’s shoulder roughly to spin him back and without a second thought, Bokuto is springing into action, before Kenma socks this guy.  
  
“Hey, let’s calm down,” Bokuto situates himself between the two, puffing his chest in a way he hadn’t since high school. His voice is loud and he tries to keep it soothing because they’re too drunk to get into a fight right now. “No need to get hasty,” Bokuto warns, putting his own hand on the man’s shoulder, exuding pressure. A glint flashes in the man’s eyes and he scoffs before stalking away.  
  
Bokuto whips back around to stare Kenma down once the man leaves. “We’re going home,” Bokuto glowers. He’s angry— mostly at the man for getting physical but a little at Kenma for provoking him— and he says nothing when Kenma’s shoulders slump into his sweater.  
  
The cab ride to his apartment is mostly silent, and he forces himself to calm down a little while he stares at the passing street lamps.  
  
Drunk Kenma is a lethargic one, so Bokuto has to all but drag him into his apartment. He throws Kenma a change of pajamas once they’re inside— a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that Kenma left for nights like these— and mutters, “Get changed,” before turning and heading for the bathroom.  
  
He hears Kenma flopping onto his bed and he turns back to scowl at him. All he gets in return is, “Too tired, I don’t wanna.”  
  
Bokuto stomps back over and starts pulling Kenma’s sweater over his head with a huff. “I’m drunk too, y’know.”  
  
“R’you mad at me?” Kenma asks while he stretches his arms over his head for Bokuto to slide his t-shirt on.  
  
“Yes,”  
  
Kenma’s supposed to be the observant one between them.  
  
“Why?” Kenma moves to slide his own jeans off and grabs the sweats from beside him. Once they’re on, he pulls his hair out of its ponytail and combs it through a few times with his fingers.  
  
By now Bokuto is a little sobered up, but it’s clear that Kenma is still inebriated by the flush on his cheeks and the slur of his words. His eyes are half-lidded and his nose is scrunched up, but even now Bokuto still thinks he’s breathtaking. “You can’t just tell people that you only like pretty boys. It’s too ambiguous,” his hands perch on his hips and he feels not unlike a parent scolding a child.  
  
“I don’t think it’s ambiguous,” Kenma retorts and leans back on his hands, letting his weight push into the mattress.  
  
“Well it is,” Bokuto grumbles, “If you told _me_ that you only liked pretty boys, then I’d think you were calling me ugly.”  
  
Kenma flops back onto the bed and yawns, his hair fanning out beneath him. “But you don’t have to worry about that because you _are_ a pretty boy, Koutarou. That’s why I like you so much,” Kenma says easily as his eyes flutter closed.  
  
“Huh?” Bokuto’s eyes widen and suddenly his face is alight. _What?_  
  
But Kenma is passed out.  
  


* * *

Bokuto wakes up on the couch. He’d went there shortly after tucking Kenma into his bed, his mind reeling. He must’ve slept not more than three hours because he’d spent most of the night replaying Kenma’s words over and over in his head, trying to figure out what they meant. How was _he_ a pretty boy? Especially over Atsumu? And what the hell did Kenma mean by _like_? Bokuto’s first thought would usually just be to ask, but this was dangerous territory he was entering now. If it turned out that Kenma found out that Bokuto liked him, and consequently didn’t like him back, Bokuto didn’t know what he would do. They’d grown so close in the past few months and more than anything, he cherished the friendship they had and the last thing he wanted was for this to ruin things between them. As much as he wants to know the truth behind Kenma’s words, they’re still a drunk man’s words at the end of the day.  
  
When Bokuto sees Kenma trudging into the living room with a hand scratching his belly under his shirt, his breath catches. Kenma’s hair is a mess and there’s a little bit of dried drool by the side of his mouth, and he’s _pretty_.  
  
“My head fucking hurts,” Kenma grumbles, helping himself to the fridge.  
  
“Language, Kenma,” his automatic response tumbles from his mouth. Kenma only flips him off from behind the fridge door.  
  
  
When Kenma leaves for home after breakfast that morning, nothing has been said of the previous night, so Bokuto concludes that the younger man most likely forgot what had happened— he must’ve been more drunk than he originally thought. Even though Kenma doesn’t remember, it doesn’t mean that Bokuto can forget. He doesn’t want to end up blurting something stupid out to Kenma if they see each other again, and he wants to let things settle within himself first, so he sets up some distance.  
  
Bokuto cancels their Wednesday plans right away and thankfully Kenma accepts without any trouble. He goes to practice like usual and does his best to focus on non-Kenma things. He focuses hard on volleyball and does his best not to turn his head every time someone enters the gym and he wishes for it to be Kenma standing at the doorway instead. He watches tv at home and tries not to think about the missing familiar weight of Kenma beside him on the couch and the sound of clicking on a keypad. He eats healthy and ignores how the oranges he eats remind of him of the smell of Kenma’s house.  
  
It’s hard to maintain the distance when everything in his life had transitioned to revolve around Kenma, but he needs to do it if he wants to be normal around the man. He can’t risk a friendship because he’s overthinking some words that probably mean nothing. They usually text day and night whenever they’re apart but Bokuto slowly eases his way away, texting less frequently until he no longer replies. He needs the distance. Kenma texts him, asking if he’s okay but Bokuto ignores it, needing to get to the point where a simple question like this doesn’t have his heart hammering in his chest. If he wants this friendship to remain intact, he needs to quash these feelings.  
  


* * *

It’s Friday night when Kenma comes bursting through his front door, looking absolutely enraged. Seated on the couch, Bokuto idly remembers giving the younger a spare key.  
  
Bokuto knows that Kenma isn’t one for violence, but the hands gripping his sweater are tight and his rough pull wrenches him out of his seat. “Where the fuck were you?!” Kenma seethes, baring fangs and breathing heavily. His eyes are wild and there’s stray strands of hair encompassing his face.  
  
“I— ”  
  
“So, what? Do you hate me now or something?! Are you tired of me now?! You think you can just throw me away like that?” Kenma snarls in his face, “I thought you were sick or something, but Shouyou said you were at practice, perfectly fine! What the hell did I do that’s making you ignore me like this? I thought we were friends you fucking dick!”  
  
Kenma is heaving air and all Bokuto can do is stare into golden eyes and hope for mercy. He wanted distance, but he hadn’t stopped to think what that would mean for Kenma. He forgot that perhaps this friendship meant as much to Kenma as it did to him. The sinking feeling in his chest hurts just as much as the claws in his sweater. “I-I’m not throwing you away! I wouldn’t do that— ”  
  
“Then what?”  
  
“You— ” Bokuto sighs, looking down at their feet, “You said something when you were drunk last week.”  
  
“I say a lot of things when I’m drunk,” Kenma snaps.  
  
“You said I was pretty. You said that was why you liked me so much,” Bokuto muttered. He looks back up and the vicious look is gone from Kenma’s face and instead he’s just staring; widely and analytically. “I like you, Kenma— as a guy. I like you as someone that wants to kiss you and take you on dates. This whole time I agonized over what kind of person would be pretty enough for your liking since you’ve said that you only like pretty boys, and when you told me _I_ was pretty, I let myself feel happy for a moment. But also, you were drunk so I didn’t know how much of that was even true. And that really scared me, because if they really didn’t mean anything, then I would just be liking you all by myself like an idiot.”  
  
Kenma is still staring at him and his forehead is creased in thought. “I _do_ like you, Koutarou,” Kenma huffs, his hands still bunched up in Bokuto’s sweater, “ _Fuck._ I wanted to tell you when I was sober, but seems I really screwed that up, huh. Well, whatever— I have feelings for you. I have for a while now. I’m sorry I yelled at you. Do you think we can try and work something out?”  
  
Bokuto is awash with relief, but the rapid beating of his heart is ever present. “Okay,” he breathes, “Okay— yeah, I’d like that.”  
  
“Okay,” Kenma releases his hold and smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric with his palms, “Just, no more shutting me out, okay? I was really freaking out. Just talk to me next time.”  
  
“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me,” Bokuto sighs, pulling Kenma into a hug and pressing his nose into the cotton of Kenma’s hoodie. It smells of citrus and Kenma and he’s really missed it. Kenma wraps his arms around him eagerly in return and he can feel himself breathing easier. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” he murmurs into Kenma’s shoulder.  
  
“More than okay,” Kenma tilts his face up and presses his lips to Bokuto’s. It’s soft and it’s warm and it feels like he belongs.  
  
They kiss once, twice then thrice and Bokuto’s grin is sheepish when he pulls away, greedily wanting to see the flush on Kenma’s face.  
  


* * *

Dating Kenma comes incredibly easy. Not out of laziness or neglect, but because it’s like this was how things were always supposed to be. Everything feels _righ_ t— when they hold hands, when they kiss, when they spend quiet afternoons together, then spend the entire night chatting— it’s like puzzle pieces fitting perfectly. Their relationship is not far off from their friendship; only now, there’s kisses and cuddles involved that Bokuto has evidently grown addicted to.  
  
Outside of pre-existing things from their friendship, there’s new things too. Kenma buys him flowers on occasion, after having had seen Bokuto’s eyes linger on the flower shops they pass by on walks one too many times. The first time he does it, Bokuto hugs Kenma so tight that he thinks his bones will be crushed. He loves it. In turn, on tired nights, Bokuto washes Kenma’s hair for him, coaxing him into the tub and suppressing a grin when Kenma settles back into his chest and lets himself be pampered. Their baths are special, Bokuto thinks— they’re comfortable and intimate and he can’t get enough of the mix of domesticity and vulnerability.  
  
Bokuto relishes in the fact that he can just reach out and touch whenever the urge arises in him. He can just grab Kenma’s hand or peck him on the cheek out of the blue and he doesn’t have to overthink if Kenma likes it or not. Sure, sometimes the younger man complains, especially when Bokuto does this when he’s busy gaming, but if Kenma really wanted him to stop, he would say so. It’s not as if Kenma doesn’t do it himself sometimes either; wrapping his entire body around Bokuto when they lay down together or kissing the back of his hands when they wake up beside each other.  
  
When they had first started going out, Bokuto had started calling Kenma an array of pet names ranging from things as simple as ‘baby’ or ‘sweetie’, all the way to ‘sugarplum’ and ‘honey pie’. He only means it a little bit, but it’s mostly because he’s a slime and he likes making fun of Kenma sometimes. It’s fine for a few weeks and Kenma tolerates it with a grimace. However, he eventually bursts, poking Bokuto in the cheek and quipping, “It’s _gross_. How would you feel if I called _you_ ‘baby’ all the time, huh?”  
  
Kenma says it to scold him, but his malice falls away when he sees the deep blush setting into Bokuto’s cheeks, ears, and neck once the pet name has been turned back onto him. Bokuto lets out an embarrassing yelp when Kenma tugs him closer by his waist. “Wait,” he smirks, “Do you like that... _honey_?” Kenma practically purrs into Bokuto’s ear and the elder knows he’s a professional athlete with strong, perfectly functioning muscles, but he can’t help the way his knees buckle.  
  
Kenma doesn’t like to be called pet names, but from then on he thoroughly enjoys using them on Bokuto, just to hear the way he squeaks.  
  
  
It’s an afternoon, and well into spring when Bokuto asks. They’re at Bokuto’s apartment, settled into his couch and idly watching tv— Bokuto by the armrest and Kenma situated between his legs and laying back against his chest, reading a novel. Bokuto is combing through Kenma’s hair with a hand when the thought crosses his mind. “Kenma,” he murmurs.  
  
“Yes, baby?” Kenma responds absentmindedly without looking up from his book. By now, the pet names have lost their heart-shaking effect, and have instead become something that falls from Kenma’s lips easily and surrounds Bokuto in warmth.  
  
“What makes me a pretty boy? Say, as opposed to Atsumu,”  
  
Kenma puts his book down into his lap and ponders for a second. “This,” he says simply, patting Bokuto’s firm chest, “and this.” He gives the elder’s thigh a squeeze.  
  
“ _Kenma_ ,” Bokuto huffs and puffs, noticing the playful grin Kenma’s face, “I’m serious.”  
  
The younger man shifts until he’s facing Bokuto, then takes his pouting face in his hands, flashing that pretty soft smile of his. “You just are pretty... to me,” Kenma muses like it’s a commonly accepted fact, “But I think maybe it’s because of your smile, and your shining eyes. They show how bright and earnest you are. It reminds me that I really love you.”  
  
Kenma turns back and begins reading again as if it’s nothing. On the other side of things, Bokuto’s pulse is thrumming in his ears and he can feel love swirling in his chest. _God, he really loved Kenma_.  
  
After a few minutes, Bokuto feels Kenma squirming between his thighs. “Why— ” he murmurs, “Why do _you_ like me?” His tone is mostly steady but the pink tinged tips of his ears are a dead giveaway to Bokuto.  
  
“I wonder,” Bokuto hums, “I think, this.” He slides a sneaky hand under Kenma’s sweater and pats the little pout of a belly beneath.  
  
Kenma whips around once again in his seat. “So you just like me for my money and my sinful body, yeah?” he accuses, jabbing a finger at Bokuto’s chest.  
  
“Yes,” Bokuto responds quickly. Kenma looks like he’s about to smack him. “But also,” he says thoughtfully, “I like you because you’re gorgeous and sharp. I mean seriously— I think it’s crazy that I got someone as intelligent as you to fall for me. I like how you’re honest with me and you’re fascinating and I never feel bored with you. You’re super cool, Kenma.”  
  
Bokuto doesn’t often get a full-face blush from Kenma— he’s not nearly as good of a flirt as the younger is— but he feels pride swell in his chest when he sees the one in front of him. Bokuto doesn’t call just _anybody_ cool, and Kenma knows this. He frets with his hands in his lap before he’s surging forward and kissing Bokuto with fervor. They melt into it easily, as they always do.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed ♡ kudos and comments keep me going !! let me know wht u think hehe thank u for reading


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